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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23566789">Undercover Angel</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cassandra_Bones/pseuds/Cassandra_Bones'>Cassandra_Bones</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (Radio), Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>...what?, Ambitious But Rubbish, Blood and Injury, Explicit Language, Hastur swears a lot, Hurt/Comfort, I Tried, I like Hastur, I like Toads, I swear!, I wrote this while listening to Muse, In Puddles, It's so OOC I want to hide under a rock, M/M, Minor Hastur/Ligur (Good Omens), Not Beta Read, Violence, We die like demons, Well - Freeform, i guess?, in the past tho, it's going to be wholesome</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 19:21:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,625</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23566789</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cassandra_Bones/pseuds/Cassandra_Bones</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When a routine visit to hell goes south, a very annoying Gabriel and a passive-aggressive Hastur are forced to put their differences aside, in order to survive. Will they reach a truce? Will they, maybe, discover that there is more to their relationship than just loathing? Will Michael finally get a pen? And what in all realms is that priest doing here?!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Gabriel/Hastur (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Undercover Angel</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ugh, he hated visits to downstairs so much. It was just so cold, windy and grimy, and everyone constantly frowned. At least it wasn’t as blindingly bright as upstairs, although he couldn’t decide if it was better to see close to nothing in the sparse light of the two or three lamps which actually worked. The worst thing was the wait. He already was behind schedule, and now Beelzebub didn’t care to show their ass in their own office. Oh, if he got them in his hands! Then, after what felt like centuries, the back door opened, but it wasn’t Lord Beelzebub who stepped out of the opening: It was a rather large fellow, with blond dirty hair, a trench coat, a tasteful, lightly scorched two piecer with matching tie and a toad on his head. His eyes had an ominous opal shine to them and seemed to change colour in sync with the lightning. When he spoke, Gabriel felt like he’d heard this voice before, a long, long time ago. “Welcome, Gabriel! Sadly Lord Beelzebub has been … hindered from showing, so you’ll have to make do with me, Duke Hastur. What gives us the honour of your visit?” He stressed honour weirdly, his eyes glinting reddish for a moment. “I’d rather speak to your superior about all the important stuff, Duke. I fear that you would babble about it with your, acquaintances, and maybe even their acquaintances.”</p>
<p>The Duke looked furious for a second, clearly fuming, but quickly gained back his composure, even forcing a terrifying smile on his face. “Although I don’t appreciate these false accusations, I respect your decision. I fear, however, that our Lord won’t be available for the next…let’s say…(if they have to kill Alistair and Mammon)…few hours? Hours. Yes, twelve at most, three at least. But I wouldn’t dare to ask you to leave and come back later. Except if that is what you want, archangel. If that’s not the case, I could order someone to bring you wine or food.” “I don’t indulge in earthly produce. I’d rather you show me around, Hastur. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen everything and I’m beginning to forget the exact corners and room numbers. The Duke seemed reluctant, desperately trying to find another reason than the truth as to why not to show Gabriel around and the archangel later would be able to pinpoint the second that the demon gave up lying and instead surrendered to his fate as a tour guide. “Alright, but there are two requirements: first, you cannot use your heavenly powers down here. Second, do not call me Duke or Hastur outside this room, just demon. Understood?” And although Gabriel indeed understood and agreed to those terms, he would break both in the near future.</p>
<p>They exited through the door that Hastur came in from, entering a gloomy, narrow corridor. “As you see, we’ve expanded in the last few centuries. Sadly, our premises have not, so everything’s a little stuffed, you see?” Gabriel couldn’t spot a single soul in that corridor. They passed various doors, some of them open. The Duke of hell invited the angel for a look into most of them, showing him various, gut wrenching miseries, each of them handcrafted for a special kind of sinner. Only a few of them were closed, even fewer locked. When the archangel attempted to open one of the locked ones, the demon accompanying him shoved his arm away from the handle. So, in an instinct, Gabriel shoved back, pressing said demon against the opposite wall of the corridor. “There are certain punishments even a demon doesn’t want to witness more than once.” Hastur said, motionless in the angels’ grip, patiently waiting to be released, not breaking eye contact. His demeanour surprised Gabriel, for the demon showed no worry as to being smitten in a tantrum thrown by yours truly. He released him, slowly and aware of every movement the other made. The demon removed himself from the angels’ personal space in the same slow and careful manner, finally breaking their gaze in order to guide Gabriel even further into their “facility”. They visited the “demon sleeping quarters”, the rooms which were reserved for all the incantations of all imaginable sicknesses, “the pit”, the stable were all of satans miniature breed horses were held, and, at last, “the tree”.</p>
<p>The room with the apple tree was the biggest out of all of them and nearly as brightly lit as heaven, with the exception that every surface was grey and stone-like. “White’s too bright.”, the demon remarked with a side glance, noticing the angel’s thoughts displayed on his face. Gabriel made an attempt at advancing further into the room, but again a hand, this time across his chest, intervened. “What. In Hell. Do you think you’re doing? It normally swarms with demons in here, it’s only a matter of time before someone will come in!”, the Duke hissed, keeping his voice on a level that made it difficult for the angel to understand. “I just want to look at it Du- I mean demon. I haven’t seen it since-well- “The Sin”. Come on, if I do something that is to your dislike, you can always try to kill me.” He stressed the try, enjoying seeing the demon struggling for his composure, but finding difficulty in interpreting the nervous side-glances his opposite gave. After all, he didn’t actually know the guy, right? So, it wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t read him as easily as one of those lascivious, mindless porn magazines he’d purchased from Aziraphale. Oh, not that guy again! Angered by the thought of that blond good-for-nothing, he pushed the demon out of his way, went right up to the tree, and, as if to assert dominance, picked an apple. The Duke of hell quaked in surprise, pressing his hand to where his heart would be. “You fool! Now everyone knows you’re here!” “Oh, as if that would matter! You’re a Duke of Hell, aren’t you? Grow a pair and tell them to crawl back into the dark chasms they came from! Come on! Stand your man, Hastur!” Too late he realised his mistake when he looked at his guide, who was looking around hurriedly, hand still pressed to his chest.</p>
<p>“Hastur?”, it echoed. “The Hastur? <em>He’s back</em>. He’s back? <strong>Hastur</strong>, <strong>once proud</strong> <strong>and fearsome</strong>, but without his other half? Sad <em>Sad</em> <em>Hastur</em>. Scared Hastur. <strong>Lonely</strong> <strong>Hastur</strong>. <em>Who’s your new friend, Hastur?</em><strong> Someone to play?</strong>”</p>
<p>Oh. There they were. The demons came out of the shadows, some crawling, some limping and many walking. Gabriel threw away the apple, grabbing the Dukes shoulder, feeling him tense. “What happened here?”, he asked, gripping tighter each moment that gave the other demons a chance to advance. “The answer to this is another question: What didn’t happen?” The demon mocked, shoving the archangels’ hand from his shoulder. “The Apocalypse?” “Very smart of you, angel! Do you think Lord Beelzebub would let me talk to you if they didn’t have bureaucracy-threatening matters at hand? They’re currently handling the higher demons which try to overthrow them after the last failed Doomsday. Meanwhile, the common demons are going haywire because they were promised a war, and if they don’t get a legitimate one, they’ take on everything resembling a fiG<strong>HT! EARTH BE DAMNED</strong>!”</p>
<p>While he’d been busy elaborating the current happenings to Gabriel, one of the crawling demons had made its way over to Hastur and was currently sinking its claws into his right leg, making him howl. The Crawler promptly was snapped out of existence, only dust left to prove he had been existing in the first place. “Am I still not allowed to break your rules?”, Gabriel snarled while dancing around two stumbling demons. “You already broke the one where you shouldn’t say my name, so why not break the second – No! You aren’t allowed to use your powers!”, Hastur screamed over the battle cries of approximately one hundred demons that currently hurled themselves at him and were, as a countermeasure, hauled away from him. Gabriel wanted to vocally protest but thought to better not disturb the fighting demon further, so he just unfurled his wings and was planning on channelling his powers to attack. Instead, his knees gave up on him because of some reason which he didn’t quite grasp yet. Then, the pain started. It seared through him in hot waves, originating in his right shoulder blade, not only resonating through his entire body, but through his whole being, soul and all. An especially sneaky demon had managed to cling onto one of his wings, dislocating it in the process. He normally didn’t feel the need to breath, but now he found himself gasping for air, trying in vain to separate the demon from his appendage.</p>
<p>At his first breath, Hastur swirled around, assessing the situation while strangling another poor fellow, launched into the air and threw himself on Gabriel’s assailant. He picked him off of the ground, bared his teeth and ripped out the thugs’ throat with one bite. When he turned around, the room seemed to darken immensely. “How dare you harming an ambassador from the other side, just because you want a little war! There’s not going to be one, at least none in which our side stands a chance, you stupid fuckers! I’m going to kill you, all of you, if you touch him again!”</p>
<p>That, paired with all the black blood dripping from his mouth, made the demons pause long enough for the Duke of Hell to drag the injured angel out of the hall into a dark alley, which wasn’t in hell at all anymore, but on earth instead.</p>
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